What Do You See
by dontcancelhousever
Summary: Watchmen AU in World War II. Rorschach is a soldier recently injured. His reward is an easy post, doing paperwork at a prison for enemies of the state. His world was black and white. Until it wasn't. Eventual slash Rorschach/Dan
1. Chapter 1

They weren't used to the prisoners sounding like humans. They were used to them braying like cattle, humming with the bleats and whimpers of sheep and dogs. Even the way they died was a wolf howl in the night, grotesque and animal.

They were not used to the grief of men or the way their voices pitched in a scream of rage and horror. Daniel reached out his hands for the body and in a moment of clarity Rorschach dragged him back. Daniel swung out like a thing possessed, lurching back on his starving body and slamming back into Rorschach as he fell. And Rorschach smelled it then. The truest scent of a man beneath the sickness and sweat and filth.

Daniel smelled like sweaters. Phantom grain itched in his hands and desire shot through him in a moment of pure heat. Rorschach dropped him and stepped away. The guards were readying their weapons for an execution.

No. It was happening too fast, he needed to repay the debt.

Rorschach stepped up to S.S. officer Hanz with a blank face and tight military posture.

" A moment, sir."

Hanz looked surprised. Rorschach had never really spoken to him beyond the cursory yes sirs and no sirs of the job.

" What is it lieutenant?"

"This prisoner has been keeping the others in a state of high morale. The production rate has doubled. Might I suggest to plant false hope, we isolate the prisoner until he can be broken and then return him to the work force. "

Hanz's eyes narrowed down to slits. Rorschach stared back with perfect earnestness.

" I was just thinking of these men on the front lines, sir. Good morale means better production quality. Better weapons for mother Germany."

Hanz's tight infant scowl vanished and split into a flat wide smile.

" You, little patriot, have much to learn about how to phrase a question. But I suppose you have proven youself free of the sympathies I have found in other men. Where did you have in mind?"

" I think he should be put to work as a clerk. Make him peruse and file the death certificates of his friends and collaborators. I suggest that spiritually is how we will break this rebel."

Hanz looked very pleased. Rorschach sealed the deal with youthful self deprecation.

" Besides I need an assistant with better handwriting. Mine has become especially poor since acquiring my service wound." He subtly jangled his mangled hand.

Hanz nodded brusquely and clapped Rorschach firmly on the shoulder.

" Go on, take the rat and do what you will with him. I don't think he'll cause much more trouble regardless. "

The other guards were poking at Daniel with the butt of their guns. He was slumped in the muck like a dead thing, sides bulging with muffled sobs.

Rorschach seized him under one arm and lifted the man to his feet. Daniel came willingly under the eyes of the camp.

* * *

It was his first day at Dachau prison camp. His uniform was stiff with starch and his war wound was weakening his whole left side. The mud and rocks weren't helping. He didn't let on that he was hurting. He was a symbol, after all.

His superior, Hanz Abelard ( "Call me Hanz of course!) was picking through the rock like a deer, after insisting on giving Rorschach the tour. "I understand the sympathy some can feel here. You see a child and you think, " ah they are not yet like their elders, surely we can mold them into true citizens. But this is not the case. Eventually they all take on the features and characteristics of their cousin, the rat. Better to send them to God before they are corrupted, yes?"

Rorschach nodded with a diplomatic smirk. One of the prisoners was staring at him from the field. His blue eyes were catching the light fiercely. Rorschach didn't look at him. Even a glance had told him what he needed to know. He knew that man. He knew him from a former life.

* * *

When Walter Rorschach had been young, the war had ended. His father had died in vain for mother Germany. His mother, to make ends meet, had whored herself to returning soldiers and local businessmen. She was murdered under a bridge when he was nine. He reflected that he would have been more disgusted with her, had she not protected him from the worst of starvation. Inflation gave the children plenty of paper to play with but nothing to eat. Some children in Walter's neighborhood had been stunted in their growth or died in their sleep but not Walter.

Dirty money had kept him alive. He left dandelions under the bridge every Sunday when the orphanage would let them out. It was a good orphanage, still over crowded and filthy but Walter always ate and no one had the time or energy to mock him for his ugliness. Starving sat on the forefront of everyone's minds.

When the town priest shot himself at night, the nuns fled the country's poverty and life got substantially harder. He missed his mother when he starved. It was no use begging, no one was wealthy anymore and anyone who was well off avoided their part of town anyway so Walter walked. He walked until the houses improved so much as many of them weren't bowled over or burnt with bombs. He had been digging in the ground for some kind of root to suck on, when a Jew had approached him. Walter knew about Jews, the nuns didn't care much for them so he didn't look up. The boy wore thick glasses and a sweater. He was carrying a bag.

" My mother always packs me with enough for an army. Care to help me out?"

Walter glanced up from under heavy brows. The boy was sitting near him in the grass. He was sweating from the heat. He wasn't a chubby child but he clearly had been once. He didn't have the tone of someone who had ever gone hungry. The boy opened his pack and took out a sandwich wrapped in paper.

He held it out. He smiled.

Walter said no but he was already eating the sandwich. Daniel chatted on and on as Walter ate, surreptitiously pushing the majority of the hearty meal on Walter as he did. He talked about wanting to travel to England (traitor) to see where Shakespeare's plays had been performed. Walter perked up somewhat. The nuns had loved English plays, Walter and the others would act them out on days when they were feeling rich with food and attention. It wasn't often but the affection hadn't faded.

"Which play is your favorite?"

Daniel jumped. He clearly had been expecting to lose Walter int the conversation. Then his face split in joy.

" I love Hamlet."

Walter hated Hamlet, he was a poor soldier avoiding revenge for fear of death. No matter how much Walter loved the english plays, he knew he wouldn't wibble so if he were a soldier. He would do his duty. Like his father did.

Daniel looked surprised. Apparently Walter had said a great deal of this out loud.

" That makes sense" Daniel said blithely, " so your father was a soldier. Mine was too."

Well…Walter's interest was getting perked left and right today.

" Yeah," Daniel said with clear unhappiness. " I think he suffered pretty bad. He doesn't talk much anymore. And he's quicker to hit than he ever was."

Walter didn't know what to say. The idea that a father might come back from war at all was kind of novelty, damaged or not.

Daniel had apologized for being grim and left, hinting that he would be back tomorrow as school was still out. He prodded Walter into a rusty hand shake. He left his sweater. Walter put it on and lay down in the grass under a tree, warm and full. He stretched like a cat and wondered at the nuns, who had never spoken to him with such interest and warmth. Perhaps they had exaggerated. He didn't want to be a bad Christian though so he didn't think on it further. He napped and waited for Daniel to come back.


	2. Chapter 2

Ok so this was originally going to be homage to Inglourious Basterds but it's kind of taken on a life of its own, hope the skipping around has gotten easier to follow. Most Watchmen characters coming soon.

Daniel was propped up in a chair beside the wall. A cut on his forehead was bleeding sluggishly into his hair, matting it thickly. He was swaying very slightly. His eyes were wet and empty. Walter didn't want to look at him but he kept glancing up. He had known men on the front lines who had started to look like that. Faded out like ragged cloth. Daniel might even try to kill himself. He touched the gloves in his pocket for security. He stood abruptly and flattened his lapel. His military vestments jangled. Daniel shook. It was 1943.

* * *

When Daniel hadn't come back, Walter hadn't cried about it. He was used to starving and people leaving. But he was not used to being well fed. So he wandered through town, sniffing around like a lost dog. He asked around. The Dreiberg man had shot himself. Little Daniel had been sent to a family friend. No one knew where.

Walter wasn't used to feeling pity.

But he knew he was lucky.

His mother had been taken from the world, not left it like a coward. Daniel would grow up now; stop sharing his food with street urchins. Vagabonds.

Walter was waiting outside the church to beg when a man his height sidled up to him. Walter was not a tall child. The man was squat and strangely proportioned. Walter couldn't help but scour his eyes all over him. His mother had told him about midgets and dwarves; they were people with poor bloodlines. As a proud German it wasn't right to associate with them.

" So what are you waiting for, kid? Gonna get your hat out and start sobbing a story at them? I bet you've got a good one."

" I'm hungry" Walter said simply but his ears were turning red.

" Sure you are. But you want more than some coins right? You want security. I can give that to you."

Walter looked over at him, scathingly.

The man was dark and bearded. Maybe Spanish in some way.

" I work honestly. And for _Germans_," Walter saidand the man threw back his head with a laugh.

" Yeah with you looking like the red headed stepchild, I bet people really think _you're_ just another Kraut."

Walter felt himself get redder and redder. His hair was a stark orange and he hated it, curling femininely. He kept it closely shaved when he could but he'd been on the street for some time. It's color had just been another simile to him of being discarded.

" Buck up, kid. It's just hair. I can't stretch my legs now can I?" Walter felt himself snort. The man leered at him.

" How about you work for me? Dye that mop of yours brown, get honest work moving packages. People still get packages nowadays but who's to do it?"

And it was done. The man who called himself Big Figure had been part of a freak attraction before the war. The group had broken up and now he was left with a fire breather and the pig faced boy, who had grown into a thuggish block of a man.  
They worked out of Dusseldorf. Walter had never been outside Kempen. He was shady, transporting goods across the border at a discounted price but bringing these people packages made Walter feel good. Useful. He ate. He slept inside. He boxed with the Pig and built up his legs with his bicycle.

It all ended when one of his packages fell off his bike. Sawdust scattered everywhere. And a human hand lay in the road. A terrier dragged it off into the sewer. Walter raced away, breaking his bike's chain eventually he was going so fast. He walked the rest of the way to Berlin. His pockets jangled with blood money but he couldn't empty them. He hated starving. It was amazing what a human is able to bear.

But then salvation. A politician had made an institution for young people hoping to serve the government. Walter signed up for the Hitler Youth when he was sixteen. He had never been dressed so nicely. Noone asked about his family or looks, he was German and it was enough. His father's name was bandied about with pride. He glowed and preened under their attention. He got to go to school. He learned a lot about the Jews. He wondered if Daniel had been an anomaly, like his own red hair.

He couldn't remember any of this avarice in his wide open smile. He put the stranger out of his mind. He was a good German, he had a party to serve. People weren't starving anymore. He was given a mock uniform. War was brewing and he enlisted in the first wave. The others laughed warmly at his excitement, calling him brave, calling him naïve. He didn't care. He was going to be like his father. His whole life was coming together.

* * *

He first saw Adrian Veidt on a Tuesday. He had just come from an instructional course on bayonets. He had gotten invitations to come out for drinks but he had declined. His homeliness was ignored here, the way he tore through battlements made him prized. He let them think it was nationalistic pride. But in reality every puppet he stabbed was the man who killed his mother. He would be getting his orders soon.

Adrian was getting out a car with a superior but the man held the door for him with a bright smile. Adrian was young, blond and lithe. The very definition of the Youth core. Walter was immediately entranced. He was beautiful and when he looked over his shoulder at Walter, he felt his stomach drop. Adrian gave him a winning white smile and walked away.

" Isn't he gorgeous?"

He swung around in surprise. It was just Leslie. She was training to be an army medic in the field so she was often hanging around the instructional courses. She said it was to acclimate, he knew it was so she could watch the boys sheen in the sun. He liked her, he knew it was backwards but she had red hair and had had to whore herself before the war. It made him feel very protective of her, like watching over her was a nod to his mother. He tried not to analyze it but it was just too obvious to ignore.

" He's an officer, have respect."

She smirked and leaned into his shoulder.

" I hear he'll be sling shoted into a command position before the year's out. Supposed to be some kind of genius." She was breathing right into his ear. He tried to shrug her off.

" And check out his ass."

"Stop!" he growled and started to storm away but she caught his arm between hers and linked their fingers.

" Come on, big little brother. Have a sense of humor."

She always added the little as a tease of his height. Despite his mother's provisions he had never grown much taller. No one got away with the tease but her. He should punch her.

" Unless it's not a joke." She said softly. " Unless you were looking."

He stopped.

" Are you accusing me?" he whispered, staring straight into her brown eyes. An allegation of deviancy could get him expelled. Jailed. He felt betrayal hoisted high in his gut.

" No, darling." She said and combed his hair back out of his face. She had straightened it out with some chemical. It had been lank ever since.

" But there are worse things than sex in this wide world. And you don't seem to have a keen interest in women."

He was so angry he couldn't even blush.

"I am not a sodomite." He hissed and dodged her hand.

" I didn't say you were." She said with surprising gentleness.

" But if you were to worship at that altar of German perfection, who could call you anything but a patriot?"

He disengaged himself and stomped off across the grass. He had to see a man about a drink after all.

* * *

1943.

Daniel jumped with Walter dumped a stack of papers onto his lap.

" You will start with the notation of Gerhard Roche's execution. After all, it was for your antics that he faced down death today."

Daniel let out a wheeze and doubled over himself. The papers slid to the floor. A muscle twitched in Walter's eye.

" How can you let this happen? And to her, she was a baby! What had she ever done but exist?"

"Exactly" he hissed at Daniel's soft shimmering eyes. " She existed. She by her very genealogy was an enemy of the state. But an enemy in internment. An enemy that might have lived if not for your foolishness today."

" She was being eaten by _dogs!?" _Walter slapped him hard across his jaw. Daniel didn't even raise his hands to test the tenderness.

" Because of you. You were the one to try to create a meeting between parent and child. Both were doing ample work to ensure their protection until you and your _soft heart-" _this he said like it was excrement in his teeth-" put them in danger. This is your mess Dreiberg. I am protecting you, something I shouldn't bother doing."

" You really think that?" Daniel whispered and something hard was coiled in those blue eyes. Walter's mouth ran dry.

" You think you can watch a little girl die and do nothing and be good? You think you're some kind of savior? A judge? That this is justice?!"

Walter slammed a hand over Daniel's mouth. It felt plush beneath his palm. His stomach roiled in torment. This had to stop right now. The absurd desire, this helpless attraction. This fucking good will.

" I could tell them that you made advances on me just now. That you are a sodomite. Do you know what they do to sodomites?"

Daniel was shaking hard when he put his lips to his ear.

" They give them over to the doctor. Or sometimes they just rape them to death."

Daniel sobbed against his hand, snot started slicking his knuckles.

" If I were such an evil man, I would give you to them. But I will not if you _do your job."_

He wiped his hand on Daniel's shirt and then kicked at his foot.

" Do your work, like the rest of us and people will remain alive. Set a foot out of line and your co-conspirators die, slowly."

Daniel hunched to pick up the papers. Walter moved towards him again. Daniel whimpered something.

" What was that?"

" I said, her name was Blaire Roche" his voice was wavering but strong. He looked right into Walter's eyes. " You should remember that."

Walter hit him across the temple and Daniel spilled out across the floor. Walter left him there to go find some goddamn coffee. Paying back a sandwich and some kindness wasn't supposed to be so difficult.

That night, he dreamed about dogs and fire. He dreamed about bloody gutters. He dreamed about Daniel Dreiberg smiling with his soft mouth. Fixing his glasses. He woke Daniel up off of his spread on the floor and held him by his throat for a minute before throwing him back down.

" What is wrong with you?" Daniel wheezed, curling in on himself and away.

Walter didn't know. But everything in him felt heavy and sick. He leaned close and Daniel shook against his skin.  
" She shouldn't have died." He whispered. " None of this should be happening." A moment passed and he felt like a traitor, like a rebel, miles from the men he had been in the woods. The gloves burned in his pocket. Daniel let their cheeks brush.


End file.
